


Along House Lines

by Knockoutsince91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Good Severus Snape, Hermione Granger-centric, Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Potions Accident, Professor Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Bashing, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape Lives, Slow Burn, no slughorn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21981418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knockoutsince91/pseuds/Knockoutsince91
Summary: “But honestly, Harry! He’s a brilliant man, though I hate to admit it. And as such he shouldn’t lump every Gryffindor into some group worthy of scorn and derision! You would think, after the war… he’d view us differently!!”Hermione needs to know why Snape has always aligned along Hogwarts House lines.... and she might get more than she ever expected.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	1. The Reason - A Potions Lesson Gone Awry

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Snamione fan fiction. Please be kind! Feedback and comments are most welcome.

Hermione hadn’t touched her food at dinner, but instead, she merely shoved it around on her plate. Her mind was obviously somewhere else, and Harry and Ron cast each other concerned looks. Even though she had finished most of her N.E.W.Ts and had finished all of her classes, Hermione had not let Potions class go. She was in her thoughts, and it was best to avoid interrupting her when she was like this. 

“That’s it! I’m going down there!” She said, slamming her hands on the wooden table so her dinnerware shook and stood up abruptly. Ron and Harry looked at each other in surprise at the abruptness of her decision. 

“Oh come off it Hermione! Snape hates all the Gryffindors, but us three in particular.” Ron shoved another spoon of potatoes in his mouth, quite content with his meal and not about to have it ruined by something so incomprehensible as to why Snape hated them all so much. 

“Asking why will get you nowhere, Hermione. Your general affiliation with me has pretty much ruined your chances at getting more than a slight nod of approval in Potions class.” Harry piped up, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. 

“But honestly, Harry! He’s a brilliant man, though I hate to admit it. And as such he shouldn’t lump every Gryffindor into some group worthy of scorn and derision! You would think, after the war… he’d view us differently!!” Hermione’s voice was getting louder, and a few Hufflepuffs turned their heads slightly to listen in on the conversation. 

“Hermione, Snape will never change. Giving him a talking to will only make you angrier and perhaps jeopardize your final grade,” Harry said calmly, aware of the few listeners starting to whisper. “You don’t want that now…. do you?” Hermione knew that Harry was trying to be logical and appeal to her perfectionist side. But there was more to this story than she’d ever told any of them. She’d kept it a secret from many, and the only people who knew were Madame Pomfrey and her headmistress, Professor McGonagall. 

“I don’t care! I need answers. I’m nearly through with my time here at Hogwarts, and I want to know why.” She huffed, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. She had yet to tell Ron and Harry about what she was going to be doing after her final year, instead allowing them to haphazardly guess over dinner or in idle chit chat through the halls. She promised she would let them in on the secret, but was not yet at liberty to tell them. 

“Good luck with that, Hermione. He’ll probably slam the door in your face before you can even get in his office.” Ron chuckled lightly. “Just let it go.” 

“No.” She said defiantly, swinging her leg over the bench and walking briskly down the aisle of long tables in the Great Hall towards the dungeons. 

As she traveled the halls, she avoided Peeves the Poltergeist lurking about, and had to wait for a few of the moving staircases to rearrange themselves. By that time, the anger that raged in her head had abated somewhat. She thought back to one of the reasons she was being so insistent on finding the truth. 

It had started with the typical double Potions class that the Gryffindors had to suffer through with the Slytherins. Draco was making his usual crass comments throughout class, but his attention had lately been directed at Hermione in particular. He’d apparently noticed that puberty was treating her very kindly, and had even made a bet with a few other Slytherins that he could get her to fall for him. Once Hermione had snuffed that rumor, his insults returned full force. Snape obviously heard every snide word and crass comment from the snickering Slytherins sitting close to his desk, but he did not care, and continued with his lesson as per usual, complimenting Draco on his perfectly ground scarab beetles. Hermione ignored the Slytherins as best she could, but Snape was another matter.  
“Miss Granger,” Snape drawled her name, sighing heavily, “Stop showing off. If anything, why don’t you get those two knuckleheads you call friends to do something productive.” He sneered, looking at Ron and Harry in the back of the class, who seemed to be struggling with getting their potion the proper shade of purple.  
“They are not my responsibility Professor, and I’m just doing as you instruc-”  
“Stop.” Snape interrupted her, and Hermione met his dark eyes with irritation, but said nothing. He stepped closer, his eyes penetrating hers, eventually making her look sideways then down. He smirked, and whisked away, checking on Pansy Parkinson’s potion and nodding in approval. 

Once class was over, Harry and Ron ran out of the classroom as quickly as possible, but Hermione was scouring her cauldron before putting it away. “Granger,” a smooth voice purred closely behind her. She rolled her eyes and sighed, “What do you want Malfoy?” He leaned against her desk, his back against it, his eyes wandering over her and he crossed his arms lazily. “Just admiring the view,” he said, his eyes following her as she walked across the room and placed the caldron on the top shelf, her shirt lifting slightly and Malfoy whistled low. Hermione blushed and hurriedly pulled down her shirt. She tried to rush past Malfoy and off to Arithmancy, but he blocked her path, his gaze direct, “Even for a Mudblood, you sure do have a nice arse,” He purred, attempting to grab her arm but Hermione whipped out her wand quickly, ready for trouble. “Shut up Malfoy. You have no right to talk to me like that,” she glared at him. He snickered, pulling his own wand lazily from his pocket, “I’ll talk to you how I please, I’ll even steal a kiss if I’d like, ‘specially since you don’t have Potter and Weasley to protect you,” He moved forward, and Hermione readied her wand, which made Draco laugh louder. He made a sudden move towards her, and Hermione made him fly back, but not before he uttered his own hex that hit her like a ton of bricks, knocking her into a full caldron of hot liquid, burning her skin and making her see stars from the fall. Snape’s office door burst open, he started for Hermione first, who was already attempting to stifle a scream of pain from the mixture of boils and burns that covered her body. She flinched, expecting yelling and chastisement from Snape, but instead he looked at her in terror, concern flooded his eyes, evaluating her without touching her, “We must get you to Pomfrey, Hermione,” He said, stroking her face lightly with his fingertips. It was the first time he had ever called her by her first name. 

Draco moaned louder in the corner, attracting attention, “P-Professor, sh-she attacked me,” He whined, holding his head where a nasty bruise began to appear, “Shut up, Draco,” Snape hissed, not even turning to look at him. “But Professor --” He started, and Snape turned to him in disgust and anger, “Don’t make me cross this room Malfoy or I’ll put you in the hospital wing myself, and that’s a promise.” He growled, “And don’t think about telling daddykins either, I’m not afraid of Lucius.” Draco’s mouth snapped shut, and he scurried out of the room. Snape turned towards her again, Hermione’s breathing was beginning to become shallow, and various boils and burns were appearing quickly. “I’m going to carry you to the hospital wing, don’t object,” he said, noticing she was trying to speak, “Merlin, I’m so …. sorry Hermione, but this is going to hurt,” He swept her into his arms as carefully as he could, as she was losing consciousness, and she yelped in pain. She closed her eyes as she allowed him to carry her quickly up the stairs and to the hospital wing.

“Severus, I’m at a loss,” Hermione could hear Madame Pomfrey, tsking and fretting over her, “Whatever he hexed her with, even if he didn’t know what he was doing, combined with the potion and the burns…. I don’t know what to do.” She said, applying salve for pain but the sores continued to blossom on her skin. “She’s spiking a fever, too,” Pomfrey noted.  
“I’ll find something Poppy, I’ll do whatever it takes.” Snape said, rushing from the hospital wing hurriedly, his black cape billowing after him.  
“Hermione, I’m going to give you a sleeping draught, but nothing too strong. You’ll be in and out of sleep for a while, dear,” Madame Pomfrey explained, making her drink a floral, sweet tasting tonic. Hermione could feel her muscles relax like she was putty, and she felt a deep sleep overcome her and she welcomed it.

Over the next few hours Hermione drifted in and out of sleep. At one point, she saw Snape had returned, carrying volumes of books in his arms, sitting down and beginning to pour over the pages, his eyes scanning hurriedly, flipping pages rapidly. She watched him work, saying nothing, his dark eyes moving across the pages, she moved slightly and involuntarily winced from pain. Snape looked up, his eyes filled with concern. He took some salve from the cart laden with ointments and tonic, gently massaging the ointment into her skin as she looked on, confused but grateful. His hands. His touch was so nurturing, so gentle. So unlike the Snape she had grown to detest. He must have noticed her confusion, and a small, sad smile crossed his lips as he continued to work, covering her arms in new salve, but he dared not do more. “I’ll allow Poppy to do the rest, I just…. I can’t see you in this much pain,” he murmured. Was his thumb caressing over her hand? She must have been imagining it. Before she could think more of it, he had resumed reading.

It was late into the night when Hermione had awoken again. Snape was still reading, a candle burning low next to him. His face was tired, more tired than usual. He squeezed his eyes shut from exhaustion, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and then reopened them, suddenly watching her. Their eyes met. He communicated so much with just his eyes.Yes, they were dark, and completely unreadable to the average onlooker, but Hermione saw those nearly expressionless eyes with complete clarity; sadness, frustration, concern all laid bare to her. Hermione finally got up the energy to speak, “You don’t…. have to stay,” she croaked, her throat dry. He smiled that sad, small smile again.  
“What if I wanted to stay, Miss Granger? Not as an obligation, but because I might actually enjoy being in your company? Your company has been the most I’ve had in a long time,” he said calmly. Hermione swallowed as his gaze wandered over her features in the moonlight, then as soon as he caught himself, he returned back to reading, ruffling his hair in frustration. “I’m going to make it right, Hermione. I swear it,” He stated flatly, turning a page. Madame Pomfrey ushered over silently and gave her more draught, sending her back to sleep, and as she drifted off, she saw Snape watching over her again. 

Hermione awoke with a sharp, bright light in her eyes, She squinted into a harsh afternoon light coming through the window, The chair Snape had sat in, presumably all night, was empty. The books were gone and Hermione felt… bereft. Why? Snape was just fixing what he should have prevented. But she remembered a soft, low humming that drifted through her dreams, and she knew it was him, late at night still trying to find a way to heal her. She looked down at her arms and chest. The sores had stopped spreading, and the open wounds and boils were receding and scabbing over. Madame Pomfrey bustled over to check on her, chirping excitedly, “Yes, he found a remedy! A few things from Professor Sprout and a few from his own stores, and he’s come up with a cure. I’ve never been this perplexed in my entire career Miss Granger, but he insisted to sit with you all night, and even when I had applied your first dosage, he almost refused to leave.”  
Madame Pomfrey changed Hermione’s bandages and gave her a sponge bath, then laid her back down into the new clean sheets. “Professor Snape is already wanting to come back, you know,” she said in hushed tones, “He won’t even let Potter and Weasley see you. He’s adamant about your recovery,” she propped her up on a pillow and Snape strolled into the hospital wing, a sigh of relief was all he offered, his body sagging forward slightly. The smile was gone. He stared blankly at Hermione as Madame Pomfrey updated him on her progress, nodding occasionally.  
“May I have a moment with Miss Granger in private?” He interrupted Pomfrey’s reporting. She nodded, smiled at Hermione, and whisked off to another part of the hospital wing. He stood quietly at first, then hesitantly, sat on the side of her bed. Hermione had never been this close to Snape before. She didn’t know how to feel about it, but said nothing. “Hermione I…. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Forgive me, please. I should have known Malfoy would try something,”  
Hermione stared blankly. “You’re forgiven.” She reached out and caressed his hand as he had hers, his jaw tightened and he looked away, but his hand stayed in her grasp, “Thank you Professor. You really didn’t need to go through all the trouble--”  
“It was no trouble.” He interrupted her. Hermione bit her lip, unsure how to proceed.

“Did you mean what you said... when you said that you enjoyed my company?” Hermione blurted out, her heart pounding in her ears. Silence followed. Snape turned to her, leaned slightly closer, and brushed a stray curl away from her face, his fingers trailing her jaw line, his eyes following, “Most definitely. To my own ruin, no doubt,” he murmured, his thumb on her chin. He leaned inches closer, but shook his head, and with that, he was gone. 

That was two years ago. After that day, he seemed to have pretended like none of it even happened. His chiding was just as cruel, his comments just as harsh as it had ever been before the incident with Malfoy. Maybe she had made it all up in her head. Maybe it was the sleeping draught that played tricks on her mind, but something deep in her gut told her that was a lie.


	2. I Came for Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kudos and comments! Here's Chapter Two just in time for the New Year!!

A few months after the accident, Hermione attempted to try to address her questions with one person she knew would tell her everything, or almost everything. She sat down with her headmistress Professor McGonagall for tea, leaning back in her chair and making idle chit chat. Once the conversation lulled, Hermione took her chance. “Professor, I need to ask you something, and I hope you will be able to tell me enough of what I need to know.” Hermione sat her teacup down lightly, crossing her legs.  
“Hermione, I’ll do my best, what is it dear?” McGonagall asked, her face more serious. “Well… you know about what happened a few months ago, with Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape…” Hermione began, and McGonagall nodded, her lips pursed tightly, “Professor Snape…. He was so kind. So uncharacteristically kind. But my question is, why does he hate Gryffindors in the first place, and more importantly, why does he loathe me?”  
Professor McGonagall sighed, also relinquishing her cup, and their eyes met. “I’ll tell you what I can. For the rest, you’ll have to go straight to the source. You know the love Severus had for Lily Potter,” McGonagall stopped, seeming to search for the right words for a moment, “And you know about the bitterness between James Potter and himself. That long enduring bitterness, coupled with a bad home life away from Hogwarts, and you get the man you have today. Do I believe Severus has made poor choices in deciding that all Gryffindors are the same? Yes. For a smart man, he does hold his grudges. I think it’s more of a means of…. protection.” McGonagall hesitated on this last word, sipping her tea quietly.  
“But even after everything that’s happened? With Voldemort and the war and the Order? How can he still be so...callous.” Hermione finished, looking down into her tea cup as if it might contain the answer.  
“He doesn’t hate you Hermione. I can guarantee that. Don’t ask how much I know on the subject. Though, I do think your ties with Potter and Weasley have made it much more difficult for Severus to… address you separately.”

Hermione still had too many questions that needed answers.Hermione still had too many questions that needed answers, and if she wanted to get them, this would be the most opportune time. She did appreciate the information she had gained from McGonagall, but of course the headmistress could only reveal so much. She approached She approached the door of Snape’s office, knocking rapidly. She heard stirring from within, but there was no answer. She continued her earnest rapping, and heard heavy, quick footsteps approach the door. “Alright, alright!” growled Snape, who started to unlock what sounded like multiple locks and chains on the door, cursing under his breath. He looked down, somewhat surprised that she was standing at his office door. “Office hours are over Miss Granger. You of all people should know that.” He growled, eyes cold.  
“Pro--Professor I need to--”  
“Grade grubbing now, are we?” Snape still stood in the gap in the doorway, his posture relaxing against the frame, clearly amused by the flustered Hermione he saw in front of him, “I thought that might be beneath you.”  
“I’m not here about grades,” Hermione huffed. Snape scoffed, “What could possibly lead you down to the dungeons, then?” barked Snape, as if Hermione cared about nothing else. “You certainly didn’t come without a motive Miss Granger, speak up.”  
“Curiosity.” Hermione said slowly. He shoulder slipped off the doorframe suddenly, and Hermione stared at him defiantly. Now he looked unsure. His grip on the door loosened, and his lips pursed trying to decide what to do. “Well come in.” He said, the anger in his voice abated.  
“Sit”. 

“ So Minerva tells me that she has chosen you as a replacement for Professor Vector and Professor Babbling for both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Congratulations.” Snape said sardonically, “The youngest witch ever to be appointed to the Hogwarts faculty.“ He stated. Hermione crossed and uncrossed her legs in her chair, beginning to get nervous.  
“And that brings me to my reason for being here. If we’re to be colleagues, I need to know why I’ve been the target of your hatred for the past seven years.”  
Snape stared her down, his cold dark eyes scrutinizing her. His lip curled into a sneer as he said slowly, “I owe you no such explanation.” He sat back in his chair, his gaze unwavering “Colleagues.” He stated slowly, as if testing out the word. His arms folded slowly, “Professor…. Severus,” Hermione said calmly. Snape flinched slightly at the use of his given name but said nothing. “You’ve probably forgotten when you helped Madame Pomfrey cure me… the incident with Draco… after Potions class…”  
“I remember,” He stated. His gaze snapped back to her. Though he still sat with his arms folded behind the large wooden desk, as physically removed from the situation as he could be, his eyes begged her to continue. Hermione blushed and rubbed the back of her neck absentmindedly, “Well…. You were kind to me. All those years of… well hatred… seemed to dissolve…” Hermione stopped, looking up at Snape, whose gaze was still on her, unwavering. She cleared her throat and, hesitantly, continued, “What I want to know….” Hermione rose from her chair slowly, blood pounding in her ears, knowing she was about to do something very risky but it was a power play she needed to make. Snape would never relinquish the power willingly. He had the upper hand being a respected, older professor and she still a student. Hermione traced her fingers along the edge of the wooden desk, stepping slowly and hesitantly towards the other side, “Is why. Why did you look after me? After everything… all those years of animosity. You saved me. Pomfrey would have figured it out eventually, or Dumbledore could have intervened, sent me to Saint Mungos for critical care….” Hermione’s gaze met Snape’s, and she swallowed, She stood at the edge of the desk. Propriety was stopping her from going further, and fear of what might come next. 

“If you think I treated you differently than I would have any student who was hurt under my watch, you are mistaken.” Snape said flatly. Hermione took a step back, clenching and unclenching her jaw, “You’re lying.” Hermione said quickly, her gaze averted to the floor, her right hand clenched the side of the wood desk so hard her fingertips were white. He stood up quickly, “What did you say?” He said, his figure was taller and much more menacing than ever up close, “Say that again, Miss Granger and I’ll report straight to McGonagall the insolence you’ve shown…”  
“You’re lying.” She stated, deliberately slower. It was Snape’s turn to swallow quickly, his eyes darting around the room, a loss for words.  
“Miss Granger I think it’s time for you to leave,” He said finally, the air between them thick with tension.  
“I came for answers…” Hermione retorted, her tone was very direct, almost demanding. She knew she was walking a thin line now.  
“And I’ve given them.” He stated, closing his eyes, sighing heavily. Hermione stepped forward again. They were less than an arms length apart, the magnetism of things unsaid drawing them together. “Please Severus…” Hermione said quietly, and it was as if a spark went off inside him, He walked towards her quickly, and she receded, afraid of what he might do. He pinned her against one of his many bookshelves with a thud, both arms outstretched, “Don’t ask this of me, Hermione.” He said softly but through gritted teeth, using her given name freely as if he has been waiting to use it for a long time, “If I told you everything, would it make a difference?” His breath was hot on her cheek, “Would you hate me less? Despise me less?” He said, laughing dryly, “Could you see me as more than a sad, miserable old professor who despises anyone clad in red and gold?” Hermione’s breath was shallow, and she swallowed deeply, “You don’t know me.” Hermione started, “Nor you me,” He retorted quickly, his hand following his eyes as he grazed her jawline lightly, taking his time with his fingertips as if he might not get that chance again, “ You might just find me…. less of what you’d hoped for,” He said, his tone somewhat deflated at the last few words, and Hermione finally met his gaze, her honey-brown eyes glistened at the edges with tears, “I don’t expect anything from you, except the truth,” Hermione said breathlessly, and her eyes traveled between his lips and his eyes, giving him silent permission should he wish to take what he wanted. Without warning, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth softly, and her eyes shut, her stomach leapt into her chest as he murmured softly, “We can’t do this now,” the back of his hand grazed her cheek, the warmth of his fingertips made her skin buzz from mere contact, “I want you to focus on your N.E.W.T.s, and it’s… improper for me to… but how I’d love to…” He growled, his other hand holding her waist tightly, His lips pursed in what seemed to be disappointment, “I promise I will tell you everything if you promise me to mention this to no one. Absolutely no one. It’s best if we keep this quiet. You still have your Potions N.E.W.T.s and I can’t have your final grade jeopardized by scandal,” He said hurriedly, “But just know… you’re right. I don’t hate you. Far from it, in truth,” And he kissed her chastely on her lips, lingering for a while against them, “Now go. Please. You’ll know when it’s safe for us to discuss this freely.” His arms dropped to his sides, freeing her, and Hermione slid away from him hesitantly, their eyes met and she reached for the door, and with a slight nod, was gone.


	3. Chapter 3 - Coming Clean

Hermione, with McGonagall’s blessing, was permitted to begin preparing her classroom over the summer for the fall term. It was an odd feeling, to finally be the one to teach and not be taught, but both Professor Vector and Babbling had prepared her for what to expect and had trained her well to assume their positions. Harry and Ron, once they could properly be informed, were ecstatic for her. Both of them had taken jobs in the Ministry as Aurors, but everyone thought that teaching would be a good fit for her. Of course she could have taken a more exciting job, that was true, but in all actuality, Hermione was tired. The war had taken its toll, both mentally and physically. Hermione knew it would be a good change of pace to delve into subjects she enjoyed and share her enthusiasm with others, rather than being in constant fear for her life and always on the move. Regardless of her past, she was looking forward to a quieter life as a part of the Hogwarts faculty. 

The first task was clearing out both classrooms and combining everything into her own classroom, while clearing out old things that neither Professor took with them. It was probably more than a one person job, since both Professors had left their entire classrooms full of odds and ends, teaching materials and irrelevant items that needed to be sorted through. Hermione did not mind the work though, and preferred to busy herself with manual labor than to dwell on what had happened only weeks before. Hermione had kept her promise to Severus, that was what she had mentally decided to call him now. It only seemed right, considering their last encounter and that she was no longer his student, but a fellow professor at one of the most renowned wizarding schools in the world. Hermione smiled to herself as she pushed open the door to Vector’s classroom, which would be her first classroom to sort through before moving on to Professor Babblings’. She had decided to wear old Muggle clothes that she could throw away if need be, deciding on a pair of jeans, a yellow cropped t-shirt, and pulled her unruly brown curls into a bun before beginning her work for the day. Professor Vector’s room was quite dusty, and though McGonagall had offered House Elves to assist in the dusting and decluttering, Hermione politely refused. She’d rather do the sorting through by herself. 

Hermione began by wiping down the students desks and cleaning them out one by one, then moved on to the Professor’s desk in the front of the room, pulling out odds and ends, old copies of the Daily Prophet and answer keys to term quizzes and empty ink bottles. Hermione stopped when she found a fairly recent clipping from the Daily Prophet, “Hermione Granger: Youngest Witch Ever Appointed to Hogwarts Faculty.” She beamed, then slowly returned to perusing the odds and ends, and came across another smaller clipping written by none other than Rita Skeeter, “Inexperienced Professors Teaching our Children: The Dangers posed by Newly Appointed Professor Hermione Granger,” Hermione frowned slightly, but crumpled the paper and threw it into the corner wastebasket with a huff. How dare Rita Skeeter question her qualifications? Rita Skeeter was less than reliable and her credentials far more dubious than Hermione’s own. Hermione tucked a strand behind her ear and continued working, and her mind reluctantly drifted to yet another conundrum in her life. Severus had promised he would tell her what she wanted to know, but he’d yet to attempt to reach out to her. At graduation, he remained unwavering, and gave her no indication of when or where they could speak. It was frustrating for her, mainly because she wanted to satiate her curiosity and because it excited her and she hated to admit it, but the… forbiddenness of that kiss, his hands on her body, it made her crave it more. 

Hermione shook her head and climbed onto a step stool, attempting to reach the back of the top of the wardrobe containing extra books and papers, her shirt slid up slightly as she strained to reach the back, but the ladder tilted and her stomach jumped into her chest and she started falling. Before she could get far, a pair of strong hands caught her underneath her arms, steadying her as she tried to stand, “Thanks….” Hermione smoothed her shirt and turned, expecting to anyone but Severus, whose lips turned into a small, polite smile. Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat, and she smiled back sheepishly, some of her hair relinquishing itself from it’s ties a bit from the shuffle and an unwelcome tinge of pink gracing her cheeks.  
“No problem.” He said, his gaze direct, Hermione blushed even more and turned towards the shelf, pulling some worn copies off the shelves, “You’re smart enough to know there are easier ways of doing this, Hermione,” His voice like velvet purred over the words and relished her name. ”Mmm… but I like to do things like this. Without magic. It clears my head to focus on one singular task,” She said, dropping a few more worn copies into a chest on the floor.  
“So what’s clouding your thoughts?” He asked, and she scoffed, turning around to face him, giving him a knowing look as she did so.  
“An exchange of promises… and I’ve kept my end,” Hermione walked slowly towards him, “Unfortunately the other party has yet to make good on his side of the agreement,” Hermione smirked, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Am I right in concluding you’re free to discuss this…” She sighed, her eyes tired.  
“Yes. I think it’s time you should know more.” He said curtly, pulling up a chair and gesturing for her to do the same. Hermione pulled a chair from a nearby desk, and they sat facing one another. Hermione leaned her elbows on her thighs, leaning forwards with her honey brown eyes sparkling. Severus looked uneasy, he readjusted in his seat a few times, then cleared his throat and sighed. “First, I… want you to know that I didn’t… intend…” He wrung his hands, his eyes avoiding her direct stare.  
“Severus.” She stopped him quickly, “I just want to know… what this is. Ever since that time in the infirmary, I can’t stop thinking about.... that song you were singing, your kindness when all hope seemed lost, just… you,” She blushed as she finished, “It runs through my dreams sometimes, you know? That song. It lingers in my mind and I’ve not been able to shut it out, and I don’t want to. The fact that you stayed with me when you didn’t have to. So many times I wanted to ask you about that night. So many times in Potions class the thought would cross my mind, but then you treated me so cruelly, possibly even more callous than you’d done before,” Her eyes dropped as her voice faltered. She felt hurt and confused by his actions, and ever since their interaction merely weeks ago in his office, her thoughts were churned in her mind like an unstoppable whirlpool.  
Suddenly, Severus interrupted her thoughts, “Do you remember the incident on the broomstick your first year at Hogwarts, when Madame Hooch let you fly on your own?” Hermione looked up at him quizzically, confusion spread across her face, then her continued “You took a fall… and Madame Hootch swore she did not know how you did not end up dreadfully injured,“ Her eyes alighted with recognition, her mouth fell open slightly, and he sighed, his lips pursed in frustration, “I… don’t want this to come across in the wrong way. I noticed your... potential from the first day in Potions class. You already knew the First year Potions book back to front. No one had ever paid that much attention to Potions. Least of all, someone who wasn’t a Slytherin. Yes, it’s true… I thought you arrogant, a know-it-all, and yes, I did lump you in with Potter and Weasley, especially since you seemed to spend all of your time with them. I personally could not understand it.” He ran his hand through his hair, “Such a bright, beautiful mind. I felt it was wasted with such company. Scribbling their homework assignments along with your own,” he admitted, “and I knew you could end up hurt running about with those two, so I… kept an eye on you. Secretly. You had no one else to protect you. McGonagall, yes but… she would only go so far…”  
“You spied on me?!!?” Hermione’s brow furrowed, and she stood up and slid the chair backwards quickly, completely taken aback, “You were spying on me all this time?!?” Her voice was angry, and Severus made no move towards her, “No, Hermione. That was not my intent--”  
“I could handle myself, you know! You said it yourself. That I’m bright and capable!” She started pacing, unsure of what to do, “Why did you protect me?!? Why would you watch me in secret?” Her voice was escalating, but Severus still sat calmly. “I never watched you... that is to say…. I would never compromise your… personal privacy,” He leaned his head forward, hoping she got the meaning beneath is words.  
“So was this some sort of God Complex? What did it do for you, to attempt to be my protector? The Severus Snape I know always has a motive,” She whirled on him quickly, stamping back towards his chair, “What was in it for you?” She spat, looking furious, her gaze attempting to pierce his, “The pleasure of freeing a mouse from her trap? Knowing the power you had to let it happen or not? I’m not a toy, Severus,” She continued, her voice low but still bubbling with anger. He attempted to grab her hand slowly but she jerked away from his touch, instead slapping him directly across the cheek. The red mark began to appear immediately on his cheekbone, and Hermione’s anger faded as Snape rose, his lips a thin line, but he made no move towards her, and cleared his throat, ”Forever the hot-headed Gryffindor I see,” He sneered, his disdain momentarily leaked through his calm demeanor,  
“Stop doing that. Stop thinking you know everything about me because a magical hat labeled me so!” Hermione slammed her hands on the desk in front of her, her chest pounding. She stared at him, their gaze locked, until finally Severus continued, “Why would I go through these extra precautions for a student not of my own house? Curiosity, Miss Granger.” He added formally, using her word against her, “I thought that… hoped that you might be different from every snotty-nosed Gryffindor before you who had come down to my classroom and retained nothing in their dull little heads…” His voice was searing, and she turned away from him to avoid their sting, “You were… are… the brightest witch I have ever known. An asset to my classroom. I pushed you because it made you great. I made you think beyond the textbook, and that’s why you’re interested now as you were then.” He paused, stepping towards her slowly, one step at a time. Hermione could feel his presence behind her, but did nothing. “I’ll admit it, it was selfish of me to try to protect you. It was for my own benefit, not yours, and I deserve your hatred for it.” He said, “But please sit, there’s more to my story that you need to hear.” He said, retreating to his chair. Hermione edged back to her seat, looking at Severus with caution, feeling the wand against her hip made her feel much more at ease. “I pushed you away and kept my distance because that was what was best for you. I never wanted anything in return from you. I… against my better judgement -- developed feelings. An attachment to you. I did my best to squelch it. I have never had inappropriate thoughts towards a student, and it wasn’t going to start now. You’re so young, and I’m not one to… prey on younger women,” He said in disgust, inhaling and shaking his head, “And that’s what I felt like I was doing. So I backed off, and then the incident with Malfoy happened…” His voice faltered, “And I cursed myself for intervening, but you were injured on my watch and I couldn’t let you suffer…and I let my emotions compromise my better judgment,” His voice faded out on the last word, his eyes staring at the floor. Hermione couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or defeat. “I tried to push you away more than ever, but you… your stubbornness led you to my office,” He sighed, and Hermione knew this was definitely defeat.  
“But…. I had no idea! That is… I just….” Hermione stopped. What had she gone down to Snape’s office for, in truth? What did she really expect to gain? She searched her mind, but nothing she came up with was satisfactory. Did she have feelings for him? He was a brilliant man, sarcastic, witty, and could be very charming. But how could she? He’d treated her with indifference and harshness for so long, why would she be attracted to that? She shook her head, walking towards the bookshelves again, feeling the sudden need for space between them. She suddenly felt claustrophobic and she couldn’t pinpoint why. 

“Come now Hermione, you came down to my office for answers, correct?” His voice somewhat mocking, again using her words against her, seemingly attempting to draw out her anger, “You’re a witch who knows what she wants and goes after it. Sneaking down to her Professor’s office out of office hours. So very…. Slytherin of you,” She kept her back turned towards him, her anger not abating in the slightest. Where was he going with this? Was this some way to change the subject? Regardless, Hermione was infuriated. “And you…” She retorted, her back still turned, “Forgoing all of your calculations and reasoning to dare to kiss your student,” she added, turning as she did. “How very brave, or what was it you called it? Hot-headed. Impulsive. Typical Gryffindor behavior,” Hermione took her time lingering over those last few words. If he wanted to verbally spar with her, she wasn’t one to back down from the fight. His eyes flashed, but his lip curled into a knowing smirk. He stepped closer, his figure towering over her petite frame, “Maybe we aren’t so different after all.” He said flatly, still feet from her. She wanted him to come closer, to be next to her, to forgo any formality and be near her again. She closed the gap between them, her fingers resting lightly, tentatively on his chest, her honey brown eyes unwavering, “I guess it’s my turn to be impulsive,” and her breath hitched as she tilted her head up, slid her arm around his neck, and kissed him softly. Check and mate.


End file.
